


It Must Be Obvious

by ice_hot_13



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt is terrified by how obvious he must be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Must Be Obvious

                 
                The rink has always felt like home to Matt. This was where nothing mattered but what he could do on skates, was where he was untouchable, had nothing to be afraid of, a place that never existed at all. He realises that tonight, that the rink never was a judgment-free place suspended above the real world, that he was never safe, was only so deeply hidden that he didn’t have to face anything. The rink hasn’t changed, no matter how different it feels tonight; all that’s changed is that he has something much harder to hide.  
                He feels like it’s painted across him in luminescent paint, like just walking in with Khajit will make it obvious, tell every person there _I’m in love with him,_ made obvious by things he can’t _control,_ isn’t even aware of.  
                Matt’s mother is coming to watch the game. This alone makes him frantic, and he’s still trying to figure out how to tell Khajit on the drive there, the last-minute-ness of it just adding to his panic.  
                “Is something-” Khajit starts.  
                “My mom’s gonna watch the game,” Matt blurts out, and then, there’s just silence. He turns his baseball cap over and over in his hands, watching Khajit. Khajit is biting his lip, overly focused on the road even though they’re at a stoplight.  
                “Oh,” he finally says, “well, cool.” It’s neutral, like he’s not thinking about what this entails, but the long look he gives Matt says a lot more.  
                “It’ll be fine,” Matt says, even though he knows that has nothing to do with what Khajit is really asking. He’s asking _how will you act towards me,_ and Matt could never voice something like that, in denial about it, ashamed of it, can’t even face it in his own mind. “I love you,” he adds softly, and here, it feels the way it never should, like just words, like he’s trying to convince Khajit, like he doesn’t know if Khajit will believe him.  
                They’re reached the rink, though, so Khajit just parks, and Matt’s afraid he’s going to get out, not say anything. “I love you too,” Khajit says, and he sighs out a breath, rubs his hand over his face. “Just… remember that,” he says, almost wearily, and gets out of the car.  
                Matt sees his mom parking her car, so he grabs his stuff out of the trunk, tells Khajit he’s going to go say hi to her, and heads over. He listens to her talk about how long it’s been since she’s seen him play as they walk in, and as he passes the proshop, he sees Khajit talking to the person behind the counter, probably forgot something – the realization that Matt has no idea what piece of gear he forgot makes him stumble a little, nearly trip himself with his stick.  
                “I’ll watch from up here,” his mom tells him, and Matt nods. There are a few girls up here too, the level that overlooks the rink, which is strange; no one usually has fans at an 11PM weeknight game. He didn’t check what team they’re playing, has no idea how popular they are.  
                He goes downstairs to the locker room, busies himself with talking to the goalie and does his best not to flinch when Khajit doesn’t sit next to him, just goes around the corner to the bench behind the wall, where Matt can’t even see him.  
                It’ll be fine, Matt tells himself. His mother’s way up on the overhead level, she won’t see everything, and they’re probably playing the law team or something, guys who are old enough to be mature about things, so it’ll be a clean game, and he can relax, can mouth _I love you_ to Khajit on the bench when no one’s looking and keep it together. It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. No one will know anything, maybe they won’t even notice he’s there. Matt just feels so _conspicuous_ this year, the only one to always show up with someone, always leave with him. Last year was easier; it wasn’t, not to live through it, but it looks easier, from this side of things.  
                Last year scared him, a little. There were two guys on their team who always came together, always left together, played D together, so in tune that Matt figured that if anyone was looking, their eyes would be on these two, not him and Khajit. Aaron and Ryan had a game sculpted around each other, like they couldn’t exist separately, and Matt was relieved, to feel like the smaller version of them, less obvious, younger, at smaller stages. It felt okay, because he could see other people doing the same thing they were on the verge of.  
                But then – then things fell apart. Then Aaron left defense and played centre instead, then there was the playoff game that Ryan just didn’t come to, a game Aaron spent looking for a fight, and when everyone asked him _where’s Ryan,_ his first reaction was pent-up anger, and then they found out that Aaron was moving away, and that no one knew where Ryan was, if he’d graduated, if he would ever come back to the team, just that he missed the last game and didn’t sell back his jersey. What was comforting became _terrifying,_ looking at this pair that fell to pieces and feeling as if they were on the same inevitable track, like this was the only place he would be able to go. This was Aaron’s anger and abandoning, Ryan’s silence and disappearance, and they’re gone this year, which is almost worse than watching them fall apart. Matt doesn’t even have a projection anymore of where they might go, and now, he and Khajit are the only ones who are too close; maybe everyone’s waiting for them to ruin themselves. They’re different, though – they don’t always play on the same line, and – Matt can never come up with other reasons. All he can think of is the way Aaron asked if he could play with Ryan, that first game, and the way Ryan never talked to anyone.  
                _It’ll be fine,_ Matt tells himself, even though Khajit isn’t even in sight, even though his mother’s watching the game, even though Khajit said _I love you_ like he didn’t think it would make a difference. And then – then Matt goes out onto the ice, and it’s not the levelheaded law team, it’s a frat team. His teammates are discussing whether this is the frat that isn’t a frat because they got kicked out, there’s a row of sorority girls watching the game from the overhead level, and Khajit is looking at him like he _knows_ Matt’s going to pieces inside, and Matt’s suddenly so afraid of the way Khajit looks at him, like it’s telling _everyone_ that Matt wants to fall into his arms and be kissed by him. _Maybe they’re a friendly frat team,_ Matt tells himself, as Chris says to watch out for the two guys in red helmets, because they’re the really good ones, and Jason asks who will play defense, always a question because they lost the best two defenseman they had when Aaron and Ryan left; Khajit is still looking at him, and all Matt can do is wonder which of them will be frustrated and angry, which one will disappear.  
                The game starts, and it’s _brutal._ They’re down zero to two within _minutes,_ the frat guys too good for this tier and too mean for a recreational league, taking slapshots every ten seconds just to impress the girls watching, who shriek and hold up their handmade signs. Matt forgets to keep his shifts short, doesn’t make a good play all period, and the ice suddenly feels terrifyingly like being out on display, because _everyone is watching._ At the two-minute intermission, Khajit is right next to him, gaze on him, and Matt can’t look at him or he’ll give away how _scared_ he suddenly is, and everyone – they’ll all know that Matt aches to be kissed by him, sleeps in his bed, has screamed his name and cried for how good it felt, _everyone will know._ Matt looks away, and every breath he takes is jerky and shallow, like he’s only barely holding together.  
                In the second, he manages to get the puck into the frat team’s zone, and when he looks up, he sees Khajit just across the ice, perfect for a pass, and Matt _panics,_ looks at him again and suddenly can’t remember how to move, because everyone’s watching and they must know and his mother will find out and he feels so hopelessly in love with Khajit when he looks at him that it can’t be anything but glaringly obvious, and he misses the opportunity to pass, ends up veering towards the corner and losing the puck within seconds. It hurts when he goes back to the bench, and Khajit leaves an empty space between them, and Matt tries desperately not to appear like he’s upset, talks too much during the intermission, so no one will look at him and say _you’re about to cry just because he wouldn’t sit next to you?_ No, he’s fine, though, he’s fine, no one can tell. Khajit sits next to him, the next time they’re on the bench together, and it’s preceded by some clear indecision, but at least he ends up right next to Matt, even if Matt’s too scared to look at him and plead for reassurance.  
                They lose the game miserably, an ever-worsening disaster; Chris and Jason get expulsion threatened by both refs, and in the locker room their captain even tells them to lay off swearing at refs, and it’s more of a reminder than a scolding, but he’s never heard her say anything like that before, not even when they were getting into actual fights, and suddenly he’s terrified of everyone, what reprimand will come next, if accusations will follow. God, he just wants to _leave,_ wants to get the fuck out and go home where there’s no one but him and Khajit, do all the things that will make everyone hate him if they find out, because how could they do anything but hate him for the way he whimpers and reaches for Khajit, can only sleep pressed against him.  
                As he’s following Khajit out, though, they’re joined by the goalie as they climb the stairs, and then Matt’s mom is waiting for him, and he’s lost the chance to say anything to Khajit, would have needed longer anyways, to figure out what he could say when what he wants isn’t something spoken.  
                “Hi, Mrs. R,” Khajit says, smiles like nothing’s wrong. “How’d the game look from up here?”  
                “You guys played great!” Matt’s mom says, and Matt just nods while Khajit thanks her, watches the scoreboard tick back down to zero-zero. He tunes back in when he hears his mom say something about not driving home, turns to her.  
                “You’re gonna stay at our place?” he asks. “But we don’t – we don’t even have a guest room, and the couch sucks-”  
                “It’ll work fine,” Khajit says, “I’ve got plans to go home, so you can just take my room.” Matt flinches, casts about for something to say and can think of nothing. He just – Khajit – he said – _my room –_ like – it’s not Matt’s anymore, like it’s always just been his, Matt not welcome there. He’ll sleep in the same bed he always does, but now, it’s not _his,_ it’s him staying there just because he can’t be in the other room.  
                “You sure?” he asks, and Khajit nods.  
                “Yeah, had plans to go home,” he says, and Matt _knows_ that isn’t true. All he can do is follow them out to the parking lot, can’t even get Khajit to look at him.  
                “Hang on, I left something in the car,” he says to his mom, leaves his bag in her car’s trunk before he hurries over to Khajit’s car. “You don’t – don’t have to,” he says, desperate. Khajit shuts the trunk, and he shrugs, doesn’t meet Matt’s gaze. “You really don’t.”  
                “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Khajit says. Matt bites his lip, suddenly feels like he could burst into tears. _But I want you,_ he wants to beg, and the idea of saying it right here terrifies him so much he’s nearly shaking. There’s people everywhere, the frat guys getting into their cars, and Matt’s just – just so _scared._  
“But you don’t have to go,” he says helplessly. “I – please, don’t go.” This makes Khajit’s eyes go sad, and he reaches an arm towards Matt, and Matt just – flinches away, terrified by how much he wants to throw his arms around Khajit, hide against him right in front of everyone. And he _sees_ the way Khajit gets closed off at that, the change in his eyes.  
                “See you tomorrow,” he says, walks around Matt to the driver’s side. Matt drags himself back to his mom’s car, the only thing he can think of to do.  
                He somehow manages to keep up a normal conversation on the way back to his and Khajit’s place, grateful it’s late and he can just go right to bed when they get there.  
                “It was nice of him to let you use his room,” his mom comments, and Matt’s heart twists painfully at the words. It’s _theirs,_ everything is theirs together, at least until he pushed it away.     
                He barely sleeps at all, keeps jerking awake and reaching out for Khajit, finding just empty space. Every nightmare he has gets progressively worse, starts with teammates’ mocking and progresses to looking up and seeing that his mother’s left in disgust, until it escalates to being cornered in the parking lot by the frat team guys, and when he wakes up from that nightmare, he’s crying and shaking. He’s too afraid to go back to sleep, so he just buries his face in Khajit’s pillow, waits for morning.  
0o0o0o0o0o  
                Matt texts Khajit first thing in the morning, asking if he needs anything to be brought to school. He’s hoping that somehow Khajit’s reply will fix everything, but all Khajit says is _no thanks,_ and Matt leaves feeling like he’s forgetting something, and it’s not the two notebooks and textbook that he accidentally left without.  
                He doesn’t hear a word of either lecture he goes to that morning, spends the short break he has studying without retaining anything, his third class a lab that he’s absolutely useless in. And then - _finally, finally -_ he has a break, when he usually meets up with Khajit, in the arts building’s courtyard. It’s not exactly near their classes, but there’s a fountain, benches with high tables lining the courtyard, and there’s always space; they’ve been coming here since first year, and Matt just - clings to tradition, maybe, places where he’s been safe and happy, letting memory upon memory reassure him. Matt’s afraid to go and find that Khajit isn’t there, but when he shows up, Khajit is sitting at one of the tables, textbook open before him. He doesn’t look up at Matt heads over, not until Matt’s standing beside him.  
                “Hey,” Khajit says softly, as defeated as last night, like he knows Matt’s about to hurt him. And Matt - he’s hated himself before, but when it’s because he’s hurting Khajit - that’s the worst, he can’t _stand_ that.  
                “Can I...?” he asks, and Khajit nods yes, scooting over more than he has to, like he doesn’t think Matt wants to sit right beside him. Matt slides over next to him, just looks at the tabletop for a long moment; it’s too high to be much real use. He knows he wants to apologise, just - doesn’t know what words to use, how to apologise something so entirely his fault. Khajit did _nothing,_ Matt hurt him because he was afraid, Khajit didn’t do anything wrong at all, and he doesn’t know how to _apologise_ for that. He scoots closer, until he’s pressed up against Khajit’s side, and Khajit looks up in surprise; Matt’s terrified of any kind of affection in public, scared of everyone, all the people who might suddenly become accusatory and angry. Khajit slips his arm around Matt, and that he’s still accepting, that Matt can still come back to this, Matt doesn’t _deserve_ that, because last night, his fear was bigger than his love for Khajit, and nothing should matter more than that.  
                Matt turns his face against Khajit’s shoulder, wraps his arms around Khajit and clings tight, and he knows Khajit is shocked and confused. Khajit shifts towards him, touches Matt’s cheek gently.  
“Matt?” he asks softly. Everyone walking by can see, it’s obvious that Matt _needs_ Khajit, but he just - he needs Khajit too much to let go.  
                “I’m sorry,” Matt says, the words shaking, “Khaj, I’m so sorry. I was - it was so bad, last night,” he manages, tears brimming in his eyes before he can help it, “I hated it, it was so _scary,_ I just - my mom was there and the frat guys were all mean and I just - I was really scared.”  
                “Of what?” Khajit hugs him closer, and Matt can hear people walking by, dozens of voices, but he doesn’t care, isn’t letting go for anything. _I fall apart for him,_ he’s saying, so clearly, but Khajit is holding him and he’s between Matt and everyone else, and amidst all the people around them, Matt feels alone with Khajit.  
                “I thought people would be able to - to tell, and I thought they’d hate me for it, and I wanted _you_ but then everyone would know and I just - everything was so bad.” Tears spill down his cheeks as he even barely glances at the memory of it, because last night, _everything_ was terrifying. It was a familiar home revealing itself to be no different than everywhere else, was feeling exposed and obvious, too many things going on at once, and Matt’s just easily overwhelmed, he always is, and last night was just _too much._  
                “Matt,” Khajit says, but it’s gentle, worried. “Matt, everyone won’t hate you for it.”  
                “My brother does,” Matt mumbles, and this makes Khajit pause. He doesn’t - doesn’t know this. He doesn’t know that the first person Matt told was his older brother, only brave enough when his brother was across the country at school, and the last thing Matt heard from him was a dial tone. His brother used to be so proud of him, wanted to see all of Matt’s games, told his teammates about his little goal-scoring brother, and Matt hates to think about what his brother might say about him now, or if he’s stopped telling people he has a brother at all.  
                “I’m sorry,” Khajit hugs him tight, “everyone isn’t like that. I _promise._ I know some people are, and it _sucks,_ but you don’t have to be afraid of everyone. And I’m here too, Matt,” he says, so gentle, “you can’t forget that. You aren’t by yourself.”  
                “You still love me?” Matt asks, because he doesn’t deserve that, he can’t, not after what he does.  
                “Of course.”  
                For a moment, Matt lets himself revisit last night, but - but different this time. He imagines being back out there, but instead of avoiding Khajit like he could hide something so ingrained in himself, he imagines sitting closer to Khajit on the bench, Khajit’s hand on his wrist, not - not being alone in it. As scared as he is of being found out, it’s always felt inevitable, that he can’t hide it because it’s _obvious_ when they’re together, and maybe - maybe Matt can let himself be comforted, because he’s still afraid but he isn’t _alone_ in it, and maybe one day, he won’t be afraid anymore.  
                “I wasn’t mad that you didn’t want people to know,” Khajit says softly, “I just wished you’d let me be there for you.”  
                “I can do that.” He can, he _can,_ because last night was twice as worse because he didn’t let Khajit close. Matt looks up, tugs hopefully on Khajit’s shirt.  
                “You sure?” Khajit asks, because he knows Matt wants to be kissed, and Matt’s never been able to do this in public. But the way this makes Khajit’s eyes light up, Matt hasn’t seen that before, and he nods yes.  
                When Khajit kisses him, everyone sees it, can surely see the way Matt just melts for him, how Matt’s so intensely in love with him, and he thinks that maybe they’ll see he has something to be envied, not hated. No matter what everyone else is seeing, Khajit is seeing Matt’s _I love you,_ and that’s the most important thing.  
  
  
 


End file.
